


Overpass The Water’s Edge

by gaialux



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Domestic Fluff, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-26 10:48:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20740964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaialux/pseuds/gaialux
Summary: Recovering from a life of hunting.





	Overpass The Water’s Edge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [klutzy_girl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/klutzy_girl/gifts).

_ Five _

_ Four _

_ Three _

_ Two _

_ One… _

Sam has taught himself to breathe again. In the cage it wasn’t needed, at least not once Sam figured out what was going on. A torn soul without his torn body and Lucifer laughing, teasing, holding Sam down—

“Hey.” Dean’s voice. Beside him. Sleep-warm arm reaching over to pull Sam close. Sam goes. Snuggled into the embrace of his brother’s arms like when they were kids and he was small enough to fit. “You okay?”

Sam nods and curls in tighter on himself. Dean helps by dragging their bodies as close together as physically possible. He presses a kiss behind Sam's ear and smooths his hair. Two become one. 

…

It started just before Dean went to Hell (for the first time). Sam spending every waking moment alternating between wanting to cry and wanting to fight. Find a way out of Dean’s deal, find a way to sacrifice _ himself _, and eventually it all become too much. Too close. 

Sam sees Dean start again, eyes darting around the motel room. 

“Hellhounds.” Sam says. It doesn’t need to be a question. 

“Could just be a friendly neighbourhood dog.” Dean cracks a broken smile and Sam wants to cry again. 

They grab a normal lunch at a normal diner down the street. The only difference is they walk rather than drive. 

_ Wouldn’t you want to get as much Impala time as possible? _Sam wants to ask but that would be bringing it up and no. Not while Dean is smiling and the sunshine is lighting up his face and—

It’s then, Sam thinks, he became aware he’d fallen in love with his brother.

Dean orders the all-day breakfast special of pancakes, bacon, steak and eggs with cherry pie to follow. Sam appeases his brother with an omelette after “just black coffee, thanks” earns him a scowl. 

Sam only wants to see Dean smiling today. Forever, really. 

“So,” Dean says, bacon rolling around on his tongue as he smacks his lips. Sam says nothing. “What do you want to do on my last day.”

“Dean—“ Sam’s voice cracks and he swallows heavy mouthfuls of bitter, burnt coffee. He doesn’t even notice until his tongue is numb.

“And don’t say ‘finding a way out of my deal’.” He piereces an egg and yellow yolk runs over everything on the plate. “I’ve made peace. Really.”

_ I can’t do this. _Another thing Sam wants to say but can’t. He can’t leave his brother. Not now, not — he looks around to discreetly find a clock — in eight hours. Oh god. No.

“Whatever you want,” Sam says, and this time he can’t hide the clog in his throat.

*

Back at the motel. Two hours. Sam isn’t secretive at checking the clock anymore. It’s a compulsion like the shaking of his knee or scratching of his fingernails into the palm of the hand. _ No, no, no _ is a siren screaming in his head and _ Dean. Please, Dean. Please don’t go. _

“Dean,” Sam says with a thick tongue and broken mind. It’s now or never and maybe this is a horrible, irreversible mistake but he has to. He can’t not. 

“Yeah, Sammy?” Dean sits on the bed next to him and maybe, just maybe—

Sam closes the distance between them and Dean is there waiting. 

It’s both exactly and nothing like Sam ever imagined. The warmth, the smell, the knowledge that it’s _ Dean _ were all fuels for his fantasy. But now there’s the knowledge that this is it. A first time and final time all rolled up into one painful, heartbreaking knot.

“Sam,” Dean says into Sam’s mouth. It sounds like goodbye. 

Sam grapples at Dean’s shirt, fighting to find skin. Hot and broken. Dean helps Sam throw off his shirt and lies down, tugging Sam on top of him. 

“It’s not your fault,” Dean says. He runs his fingers along Sam’s face then pulls him in for another kiss. 

Sam knows the blame all lies on him. If he didn’t die, if he didn’t let Dean back into his life, none of this would have happened. Selfish. Needy. All of Sam’s worst attributes coming together and dooming his brother for eternity. 

“I’ll find a way to get you out of this,” Sam vows. A benediction coursing through him. “I’ll save you.”

Dean kisses him. Rough, biting kisses and Sam wants more. He lets Dean pull off his shirt and their chests are flush against each other. Hearts beating the same until, soon, Dean’s is to stop beating—

Sam tears away to look at the clock. How have only ten minutes past? Have they managed to stop time? He hopes so. He prays so.

He can feel Dean’s hardness against his thigh and wants all of him. Wants to be inside him so deeply no demon can ever touch. Sam reaches down, cups his brother, and earns a groan in response that vibrates through everything.

“Pants off,” Sam says. “Please.”

Dean does as Sam asks without separating their bodies. Wiggling free until his cock slaps against Sam’s belly. 

There’s no hesitation in Sam’s next choice. He makes his way down, wet kisses along the way, and takes Dean’s cock in his mouth. Salty and warm and heavy and perfect. He doesn’t know what he’s doing but he knows he wants to do it. 

“Sammy,” Dean says in a voice Sam’s never heard before.

In the street and starlight Sam takes in everything about his brother. Every freckle, every line, every strand of hair. Why hadn’t he done it before? Why hasn’t he tried harder to remember?

Sam takes Dean deeper, until he chokes, and Dean eases him off. Kisses away the precome and tears coating Sam’s face. He didn’t realise he was crying. 

“Come on, Sam,” he says. “Need you.”

The bathroom has all the complimentary shampoo/body wash/body lotion combinations all but the lowliest of motels supply. Sam grabs the lotion and hurries back.

Dean is ready and waiting for him. Legs splayed and hand on his cock. Sam drinks in the sight.

“You can join in,” Dean says with a grin. It’s shaky at best but Sam overlooks that. His brother wants him. Finally. 

It’s not something Sam’s ever done before, and maybe he should have found someone to practice with first — but no time now. 

He opens Dean up with shaky, unsteady fingers, Dean pushing back and urging him on. He wants this. _ Needs _this. They both do. Not enough time, never enough time—

“Sam.” The word falls from Dean’s lips: both a blessing and a curse.

Soon, after his pants are hurridley yanked off, Sam is inside him. A perfect fit and sparks explode around the room. Dean rocking under him, catching the back of Sam’s head and dragging him down for a bruising kiss. 

It doesn’t last nearly long enough and the clock must be counting down. Sam needs to keep Dean with him. Now they’ve shared this, admitted this, nothing should be allowed to tear them apart again. 

_ Five _

_ Four _

_ Three _

_ Two _

_ One… _

…

The world around them turns to fire, that same sensation Sam has in his chest rushing down his arms and into his hands. Thick, congealed blood drips to the church floor and Dean is there. In front of Sam. A mirage with eyes wide and begging. 

“Let it go,” he says. Quiet, gentle. Then with more authority: “Let it go, brother.”

Sam falls into him and allows himself to be held by strong, soothing arms. Dean grabs his face, looks him in the eye, and kisses him with blood on his lips.

“I won’t ever leave you,” he’s saying. “Nobody could ever be more important to me than you.”

Sam wonders if he’s imagining the words; exhaustion aches through his bones and a thick fuzz settles into his ears. But Dean is here. Dean is _ real _. And Sam thinks his vow must be, too. Just stay awake long enough to get away from this church. To get home. To be together again. 

_ Five _

_ Four _

_ Three _

_ Two _

_ One... _

...

Sometimes, they hunt. Both tried to quit but it runs in their blood and Sam’s hands itch if they can’t kill some evil assholes. 

Usually it’s Lucifer’s face he sees. 

*

They do, however, have a home base. A little white brick two-bedroom house with a garden Sam likes to potter around in. This season he has lettuce and carrots and strawberries all growing. Dean works on the Impala in the driveway and locks her up in the garage at night; only a few guns live in the trunk. Their neighbours at first think they’re housemates, then close friends, and now maybe lovers. 

Neither Sam nor Dean corrects them. 

*

Dean’s kisses still send fire through Sam. He can never get enough. He wonders if it’s soulmates or just years of pent-up wanting finally realised. They sleep tangled and wake with faces pressed together. 

“I love you,” whispered in both the darkness and light from one or the other never gets old. Learning and exploring each other’s bodies can fill in hours of the day. 

All of the shit they had to go through to get here?

Sam would walk through hellfire a millenia over. 

*

Dean asks with no build up. No special day — Sam wracks his brain and comes up with nothing — just the two of them watching TV together after dinner, a six pack of beer on the coffee table in front.

“Do you want to marry me?”

Sam splutters out his beer. 

“Charming, Sammy.”

Sam gains enough composure to ask: “What are you _ talking _about?”

“You. Me.” Dean says slowly. “I know you planned to marry Jess, so it’s important to you, yeah? And after what happened in that church…”

He trails off and takes another sip of beer as Sam’s mind reels. 

“I’m serious,” Dean says, and he does sound it. Eyes staring right into Sam’s soul. He reaches out, squeezes Sam’s hand. “Not like we’ve ever had trouble with getting fake IDs.”

Sam isn’t sure how he’s supposed to respond. This is Dean. The one who raised him from a six month old baby; who taught him to drive and shave and shoot a gun; the first person he fell in love with; the person who saved him and sacrificed himself time and time again. He is Sam’s world and, maybe, Sam is his too. 

“Yes,” he chokes out.

*

The day is tiny of course. 

“Everyone we know is dead,” Dean jokes and Sam chooses not to mention this is probably not something they’d want to share with people who know their history, anyway. 

They buy new suits — ones not associated with FBI or insurance agents. Sam’s charcoal and Dean’s a midnight blue. 

“Wow,” Dean says when Sam steps out of the room. “You look beautiful, Sammy.”

It’s hard to keep the suits on and hands to themselves while waiting to head over to town hall. 

The ceremony weds Dean Wesson and Sam Smith -- but they know _Winchester _will remain their chosen name. Neither particularly cared about specific vows — they’ve said them enough before. Through good and evil; death and resurrection; brothers to more. Sam would die for Dean. Dean would die for Sam. 

One thing they do add is the question: “Will you promise to live for me?”

“I now pronounce you married.”

Dean cups Sam’s face and draws him close. His eyes are shining and Sam knows it’s a mix of tears and pride. The kiss is the best one yet.

*

The night reminds Sam of this first, but this time nothing is going to tear them apart. Sam rocks into his brother and squeezes their fingers together so tight the scar on his palm tingles. Instead of reminding him of Lucifer it reminds him of Dean. Of warmth and safety and home and _forever_.

“Sam, Sam, Sammy.” Dean murmurs then yells as Sam carries him over the edge. 

…

_ Five _

_ Four _

_ Three _

_ Two _

_ One… _

One day, they will breathe their last breaths. 

But this time, it will be together. 


End file.
